we hit skid row
as the greasy rain
slicked
the sidewalks
we threw
our empty bottles
at the mutts
yelping
round
the dumpsters
then
we crashed out
in a doorway
waiting
for the city
to open
Johnny and me
pulled our
greatcoats
round us
feeling in
the torn pockets
I touched
the other guy’s sleeve
velvet
told me
just how far
he
had
fallen
Author notes
"Hark, hark, the dogs do bark" in the style of Charles Bukowski.
In a list
A contest entry
- Trouble in the Nursery by Keith.
500 points, ended August 7, 2008, 13 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - buk & thee by onerios13.
1300 points, ended August 11, 2008, 14 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 22 of 22
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this is just a grand piece of poetry...my jaw just dropped...
yep;..
i too have fallen...
in love with the poem...haha..and you
lol
mal
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hey, thanks Mal.
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Fantastic little redention of buk at this finest. This had a rolling energy, a kind of chaotic whirlwind of words and action set behind a backdrop of night and night activities.
But the ending...that just shined like a top of a crystal goblet set in pearls.
Most excellent.
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Thank you for your kind comments.
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I like the reference to "greasy rain" It lends a certain permanence to the gloom and despair as if there is no sunny tomorrow.
This line has a deliberate slightly unclear reference implying the bums might be yelping, either in stead of, or as well as, the dogs.
"we threw
our empty bottles
at the mutts
yelping
round
the dumpsters"
It never ceases to amaze me how the simplest of terms can be combined for great effect as in, "greatcoats". Yes, bums will don the largest coat they can find. No need for sizes.
And then there the scourge of the Black Velvet double reference.
You're lack of bells and whistles authenticates.
I know when I have a good Buk imitation by the way my inner voice changes to his soon after I start.
Wonderful entry Mairi.
Paul
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Thank you Paul. I couldn't see these guys any other way than in Army-surplus greatcoats, tattered and torn ("Some in rags, and some in jags..."), and couldn't write this any other way than sans bells sans whistles.
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Interesting... and certainly underscores the human suffering behind the original rhyme).
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Charles Bukowski (and beat poetry in general) is an acquired taste. This was actually the first parody which came to me for this contest when, for some reason, "Hark, Hark..." popped into my mind. I wrote it for my friend Lane, who idolises Bukoski.
Thanks for reading and commenting. I am particularly appreciative because the background and font may not have suited your eyes (I picked it because it would remind Lane of her own practice on this site).
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I thought this rather good. It takes an especially good turn here:
velvet
told me
just how far
he
had
fallen
which I think is the best part of the poem. It makes the rest rise above ordinary, if you know what I mean.
I don't think you need to repeat the first line if you also use it as a title, rather just swing right into the second line of your poem leaving the title as the lead.
and you could even get rid of that passive "as" to start, i.e:
we hit skid row
the greasy rain slicked
the sidewalk
we threw
empty bottles
Just some thoughts to consider or not. Good luck in the contest.
Lisa
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good stuff
and good luck in the contest.
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Thank you.
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I just have to go read some Bukowski..I am totally out of the loop here, I love your poem... gritty!
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I don't know what you'll think of Bukowski, but do go read his work.
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wow...how did you DO this?? lol This is better, actually, I think, but shhhhhh! Bukowski's ghost is sleeping it off on my futon in the corner
I love it.
Love, Lane
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Actually I think this was one nursery rhyme which was yelling out for the Bukowski treatment. It just gelled.
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This is amazing. I've read the original, but Bukowski's a guy whose works I'm not familiar with. You even got the velvet gown in.
I'm well impressed. Best beat wishes. -
Good one. I think Charles would've been satisfied with this--I know I am.
Bill
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I'm glad about that.
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turns out skid row is a wonderful place, or a place of some wonderful poetry... 'skid
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... and if you don't believe me, then believe Bukowski! Meanwhile, feel free to compare this to the original nursery rhyme.
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I miss the jags though
Very Bukowski and guess who is going to love it
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That's in the torn pockets!
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